


Out of sight, out of heart

by justmariamay



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Denial, Devil Michael, Gen, Minor Character Death, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-02
Packaged: 2018-08-19 04:40:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8190427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justmariamay/pseuds/justmariamay
Summary: Death actually likes Michael.





	

His eyes always find Michael among others. Always. He inevitably draws his gaze. And it’s hard to look away. Nearly impossible.

Here he is to take another damned soul. Angel that never brings good tidings. Angel people must be afraid of. And this one on the floor with their soul leaving numbing body wasn’t afraid enough. The devil came to gather payment for his service.

The devil’s games are cruel and sophisticated. In endless struggle of good and evil he lets angels win again and again, but he makes them doubt their victory, makes them question its price. Michael is like a child exploring the chessboard and finding the opponent’s figures too pretty to eat. It’s twice as cruel because he above all knows that no one really gets to choose, that every step, every word, every breath seal their fate into unbreakable sequence on the canvas called Universe. And yet devil makes promises to anyone who wants them and he fully intends to keep them.

He promises Heaven. Heaven and nothing more.

Death watches Michael caressing the soul that is torn between pure terror and inevitable desire to lean into the infernal touch. Moth and a flame, the most trivial love story.  

“I’m glad you came,” Michael greets him. Death is silent.

Michael gives him a handkerchief stained with blood.

“You brother said hello.” Death doesn’t have to verify which one when he unfolds white and red-brown fabric and stares at rumpled lead peace.

“From all his heart,” the fallen comments.    

The old Horseman would slap him if there was even a shade of humour. But there was none. It’s War’s words, Death’s aware. Michael just isn’t clever enough for that.

“Have you seen others?” Death asks putting bloody present in the pocket. He can’t help it. How much tired is he to chase his brothers and only get a quickly disappearing shadow.

He doesn’t even have to ask. Of course Michael did. Death can clearly see on the devil, where War left a fresh loving scar, where Famine breath ghosted over, where Pestilence kissed him. Michael wears signs of Horsemen’s painful affections openly.

“Famine is just across the street,” Michael says casually.

They both know that by the time Death gets there, his brother will be gone. And if not, something truly horrible will happen. Michael’s presence is grounding him, makes him stay in place, away from regret.

Suddenly the shaking soul is in his hands. Pale Horseman shakes his head but accepts it. This soul has a chance to get to Heaven, even though the devil’s seal has been put on it.  It still might end up in Hell, but someone else will decide it.

“Why are you doing this?” it’s not the first time Michael graciously refuses taking what’s his. Death doesn’t understand. If it wasn’t so spontaneous it would be malicious, shoving in God’s face that a righteous soul can choose devil’s help instead of humbling and prayers.

“I’m only returning His love,” Michael shrugs.

“Returning _his_ love or taking _yours_ back?” the Horseman asks quietly.

Michael laughs and the sound makes the night around them shiver. He knows his father doesn’t want it. He never has. But He can keep it for all Michael cares. He has it plenty. It should be more troubling than Death finds it.

“Why all of sudden?” Michael’s eyes glint curiously. “Are you jealous?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

No way in Hell, Heaven and Earth. Death is too cold for such strong feeling. He wonders who taught Michael this. No doubt one of his little demons. But truth is Death does feel something. With Michael near he feels close to being alive, feels it so strongly he almost hates it. He almost loves it.

There is another truth Death is used to ignore. It’s that he really likes Michael. Or even that Michael is the only one he likes. All of his children unknowingly to them share this angel’s features. Tessa’s loyalty. Hashir’s habit to stare at the sun with open eyes. Niall’s integrity. Shastri’s clumsy wings. Sarah always loses her keys and Andrey constantly finds troubles. And there are hundreds other little unimportant things. Unimportant, but strangely, annoyingly endearing. So, while Michael was falling and falling from Heaven, Death basically gathered another him from different parts. It sounds terrible, but it’s true. But he never made it whole. Because he’s not about to repeat another god’s mistake. The trail of thought is interrupted, fortunately.  

“People… I love them. And I love them even more when they are close to you. In those moments they are the kindest, they wish no harm to others, they just want to be saved,” Michael means every word and it makes Death’s cold skin crawl.

“They are just afraid. Only dead are not afraid to die,” even those who long for death can’t help being scared

“Am I dead then?” Michael asks with ever present smile and his hands frame Death’s face.

He can’t bare this warmth. He never could, even when those hands were so tiny and fragile, when that voice didn’t exist yet, when those eyes didn’t see. He rejected this warmth then, he rejects it now.

“You wish you were,” Death says bluntly removing Michael’s hands from his cheeks.

Devil nods and casts his eyes down, looking in dead eyes of the corpse on the floor.

“This is my Paradise now: searching for your reflection in every wide opened eyes…” simple words on human tongue, whole symphony sang by angelic voice.

Death waits when hollow black eyes meet his again and replies as coldly as he can at the moment.

“No, child. It’s the only Paradise you ever knew.”

It’s the truth. And it never mattered.


End file.
